five.then

I don't see Yara again for 2 more days.

I had figured that she had gotten a schedule change, so imagine my surprise when I go into first period today and see her again in the very last row. I'm early for once, so it's only me and her in the classroom.

And yes, she's still beautiful. Her dark, curly hair is pulled into a rather large ponytail, her AirPods nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by quarter sized silver hoop earrings. She has a little pink spiral notebook on her desk and scribbles in it occasionally after scrolling through her phone.

It's poems. She's gotta be recording or writing poems.

I walk over to the desk on her very left and have a seat. She turns to me and smiles, both of her dimples showing. "Hey Willow Tree. Read any good poems lately?"

"Willow Tree?" I question, smiling. It's not the first time I've heard that, and usually I'd be annoyed but everything sounds better coming from her lips.

I want to say something, anything, but her round hazel eyes have me pinned to the spot. I can't do anything but stare into her eyes.

I expect her to break away, to say something, to do anything, but all she does is stare back, her expression revealing nothing, yet her eyes saying everything.

It takes all my free will to lower my eyes and say, "Actually, yes I have read some good poems." After the day we met, I went home and memorized a poem that I thought was really good. I really want her to like me, and this is the only way I know how to relate to her.

"I doubt you know this one, though."

I clear my throat and say from memory: "'I love you as/ certain dark things/ are to be loved./ in secret—'"

"'Between the shadow/ and the soul,'" We say at the same time. I smile, and she bites her lipgloss covered bottom lip and stares at her fingers, which are now covered in pink nail polish.

"By Neruda," Yara says, still looking down but I can tell she's trying not to smile. "That's a really good one."

I had no idea how to pronounce their name tbh. I wonder why she's so embarrassed. I say, teasingly, "How do you even knowthat? Like, you weren't even alive when that poem came out!"

She looks up at me, the left corner of her mouth turned up. "Let's just say," she says, reaching down into her backpack and pulling out a rather large gray notebook , "I really really like poems."

More people file into the classroom, but I ignore them and focus my attention on the abnormally large notebook on Yara's desk.

As she puts her tiny pink notebook away I say playfully, "Are you gonna tell me what's in the notebook, or am I supposed to guess?"

She chuckles, and I melt a little.

"It's my poetry collection," she explains. "I've been collecting these poems since I was 12 years old."

She flips to the first page, which is dated "3-9-16", with handwriting that definitely had to belong to a 12 year old. And the poem that she written down was extremely childish, but you really can't expect more from a twelve year old.

I burst out laughing. "Candy corn," I say, wiping my eyes. Yara grins.

"Well, what's wrong with candy corn?"

"It's absolutely disgusting."

She gasps in fake horror, shaking her head so that loose curls fall in front of her face. "It is not! Candy corn is the absolute one thing I love about autumn."

I giggle a little and say, "I'm not gonna say your opinion is wrong because it's you're opinion but, um, you're opinion is wrong sweetie."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever Willow."

I roll my eyes back. "Whatever, Yare-Bear."

For once, it's her turn to be confused.

"What did you call me?"

Why did I say that! I barely know this girl!

"Never mind, it was stupid." I adjust a stray strand a hair back into the tight donut bun atop my head and avoid eye contact, although I can feel her eyes searching my face. I wonder what she's thinking.

"Wait a min—" Yara starts to say but is cut off by the teacher's heels clicking into the classroom, the door slamming behind her. Class has officially started.

As she begins her boring lesson, I take out a notebook and pen and attempt to write down her attempts at handwriting. And yet again, I give up and instead settle on just taking a picture of the board at the end of class.

I pull out my phone which, of course, Yara has already done. I guess that's gonna be a trend.

I'm hungry, so pull out my new bag of salt and vinegar lays and open them. Immediately like half the class including the teacher just turns and stares at me like creeps. I don't know what to do so I just stare back.

"Miss Harris, I don't know where you think you are, but you can't eat in here." She grabs her pointer and points to a sign that says no full allowed. "Put the chips away now."

"But I'm hungry! You can't tell me what to do with my stuff because they're mine!"

"And now you have detention."

Bish what?

Teacher walks to her desk and pulls out a pink slip, scribbles something in it, walks to my desk and hands it to me.

"Get out of my classroom," she says, not even mad or anything.

"Ok class! Back to the comma rules..."

She's acting like she didn't just put me out her class for pulling out Chios and almost eating them.

I'm annoyed, so I grab my book bag and get ready to walk down to the detention room. I'm not even halfway to the door when I hear Yara say, "Well, don't leave me behind."

I turn around, and Yara has her backpack on and her grey notebook in her arm. "I'm coming with you."

"Miss Theron," teacher says, looking really annoyed now. "You haven't earned a detention so you're staying here. Please return to your seat."

She looks at her expectantly.

And I expect her to go back to her seat but, to everyone's surprise, Yara leans on my shoulder and says loud enough for everyone to her hear, "Ms Spandivinski is such a bitch."

The room goes dead silent for a moment. I don't think anyone expected Yara, who comes across as this kind, respectful girl, to ever curse like that, let alone to a teacher.

The entire class, including me, erupts into laughter. The teacher takes a step backwards, her face red, her eyes wide in anger.

"Get out of my classroom!" She yells. "Both of you! Detention everyday until I say you don't have it!"

I know I'm in trouble, but I'm just laughing because I could really care less.

I hold out my hand, and she takes it expectantly. As we walk out the classroom, a chill goes up my arm as I say, "I think you made her kinda mad."

"Yeah," she said, looking me in my eyes, " but it was worth it."